


The Scent of Memory that Lingers On

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Community: thegameison_sh, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-01
Updated: 2011-06-01
Packaged: 2017-10-19 23:37:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/206450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John will always remember the smell of paperwhites.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Scent of Memory that Lingers On

He is leaving the flat. The night is still cold, and John turns up the collar on his jacket, hating the way the chill seems to seep into his very bones.

At least Sarah's would be warm – no bombed out windows. He smiles.

John quickens his pace to the Underground.

A scent, cloying, laden with memory, calls to him.

He stops, turns.

The black car pulls alongside.

The air is thick with the promise of rain – pregnant.

* * *

He is chasing Harry in the gardens of the posh houses his mother likes to visit. The explosion of purples and blues and whites in the flowerbeds.

"Children!" his mother calls. "John! Stop tormenting your sister."

Childish arguments: "He started it!" "She did!" "Mummy, make him stop!"

A sudden downpour, and his mother hustles them beneath the shelter of a walkway.

In the rain, the tulips and hyacinths seem to collapse beneath the onslaught.

* * *

He is in Afghanistan, Kabul, looking out of the window in the flat where Murray had been lodged before… before he died. He can see the snow on the mountains that ring the city, clinging to the peaks, defiant against the dry heat that suffuses the valley. On the table is a pot plant – paperwhites, he remembers. They were from Murray's wife. The wife John hadn't known about until they'd called him to sort his lover's – ex-lover's – late shag's belongings. The smell makes him gag and he has to hurry from the room.

* * *

He is in a car, face pressed to the carpet. A foot is on his neck.

The smell of paperwhites pervades the small space.

He is suffocating.

"Didn't expect this, did you, pet?" a lilting voice asks, the foot grinding down on his neck.

The smell washes over him in waves.

* * *

He is in the lab, looking at Carl Powers' shoes. The door swings open and Molly pokes her head in. John feels a flash of irritation at Sherlock. He could at least be nice to her. The door opens and a man, Jim from IT, pokes his head in.

Sherlock barely seems to notice.

The metal dish falls to the floor with a jarring crash.

John catches the scent of cologne, too heavy for his taste, a clinging smell: paperwhites.

"Gay."

"Why do you have to go and spoil everything?"

* * *

Above the mildew and chlorine, he can smell it. Feel the presence behind him. Hear his voice in his ear.

"Time to play, pet."

"Evening."

* * *

He wakes to the feeling of rainfall on his face. A promise made good.

Cleansing April rain.

April showers bring…

 _Flames._

* * *

He is in the garden, digging in the dirt. Beside him is a sack of bulbs: hyacinths, tulips, daffodils, crocus.

Mud is on his cuffs and his knees. Rain falls around him, drips down his collar.

Every autumn he plants them and spends the winter hoping for the first tendrils of green.

There are footsteps behind him. His shoulders tense, waiting for the blow.

To die with his hands in the dirt, the mud. He is cold.

"John."

A familiar voice, yet unfamiliar.

John reaches for his cane and rises.

Sherlock is older, thinner, paler.

"John."

In his hands, Sherlock's face is cold, smeared with mud.

John's cheeks are wet.

Sherlock tastes of cigarettes.

His mouth is warm.

John's cheeks are wet, but it's raining.

Breaking the kiss, Sherlock leans his forehead against John's.

"You aren't…" John begins to say.

John breathes deeply.

The year is dying around them.

**Author's Note:**

> Not mine. No money. As usual, thanks go to Bluestocking79 who saves my commas (hair and otherwise).


End file.
